Concrete Angel
by Cerulean Pen
Summary: One-shot song-fic. Seventeen year old Woody Pride and his cousin, Jessie, sing tribute to their good friend, Dolly, who was a victim of child abuse. Even if you do not like the couple or song, please read, and see how child abuse takes so many lives.


Concrete Angel

Summary: One-shot song-fic. Seventeen year old Woody Pride and his cousin, Jessie, sing tribute to their good friend, Dolly, who was a victim of child abuse. Even if you do not like the couple or song, please read, and see how child abuse takes so many lives.

English Romance/Angst Rated: T Chapters:1 Words: Woody & Dolly

**Since "Speak Now" came from listening to the song (and partially from my friend, macadoodles) it's no surprise this idea emerged from listening to "Concrete Angel." I have also recently started a campaign against child abuse, just because it is such a terrible thing, and this story is show you why. Even if you dislike the couple, hang with me, I'll show you what our world is becoming. Okay, read, review, and enjoy.**

"You ready for this?"

Seventeen year old Woody Pride looked up at his cousin, Jessie Cusack, who looked extremely nervous to be asking the question. Her long red hair was down her back, without the usual braid, wearing a white and yellow shirt, red jacket, jeans, and cowboy boots. She looked too formal, like she was the part of the picture that didn't belong, holding the edge of the curtain, tears in her eyes.

"Yeah," he whispered, running his hand over his rumpled brown hair once more grabbing his guitar. He had only recently learned how to play, but he had spent so much time on this song, it didn't matter. In fact, nothing mattered as much as did anymore, like he had become as numb as an anesthetic.

Before they could pass through the curtains, Woody caught sight of himself in a small, warping mirror on the wall, scratched and rusted with years of damage. He was wearing his favorite shirt, a long-sleeved yellow and red plaid cotton one. Like Jessie, he wore his jeans and cowboy boots, along with the golden star pin: there was no way he would perform without it. But, despite that, his face made him look older then a high school senior. His eyes were bleary and already tear-filled, along with dark circles beneath his brown irises.

"Woody?"

Jessie was so sincere, so quiet, so serious in the moment, watching him, almost timidly, from her spot on the floor. She was always so happy and enthusiastic and full of joy, that this word just characterized how the situation had changed both of them. "I'm fine Jess, let's just do this," he told her, finding his voice dried of emotion and strength.

As they walked onstage, a beam of yellowish spotlight followed them, guiding them to their stools and microphones on the darkened area. The audience was packed, seated at small tables, applauding only for a moment before falling silent again, anxiously waiting for them to perform.

Woody recognized a few people from the blurring audience: one of their close friends, Crystal Varney, and her boyfriend, Slink, with her gripping his hand as he tried to calm her. Their teacher, Parker Head and his wife, Paula, both sat at a table, looking on at their students in slight fascination and sadness. Trixie Horn sat by herself, another friend of their's, also a computer geek, her bluish locks falling around her tear-stained cheeks.

Jessie looked over at her cousin, finding him incapable of speech, so she brought the microphone to her mouth, grimacing at the ear-splitting feedback. She cleared her throat, pushing back a lock of her crimson hair, finding her mouth dry and cheeks wet. "H-hello everyone, my name is Jessica Cusack, and this is my cousin, Woody Pride. We're here to sing tribute to our very good friend, Dolly Anderson, who was-was murdered on April 1st, 2010. This murder was the work of her father, who had been abusing her since she was only six, and this song is to explain why."

After silence reigned a moment, there came appropriate clapping to her short speech, as the lights dimmed further. The piano portion of the song came on the speakers, while Woody began to strum the notes that went along with it.

Jessie took a deep breath, clearing her throat once more to clear any breaks that might occur. Her cue came, and she began, singing along with the music, her voice considerably good, without the usual Southern twang.

_She walks to school, with the lunch she packed_

_Nobody knows what she's holding back_

_Wearing the same dress she wore yesterday_

_She hides the bruises with the buttons and lace_

With the music, all memories of Dolly came flooding back into Woody's mind, recent ones, major ones, even little thing that he had gradually forgotten about. The part about buttons was no mistake, Dolly's favorite dress was bright orange, consisting of her buttons that she had sewn on in different places, in no specific order.

She had been his best friend since kindergarten, the kind of person who stays next to you the whole way. He also remembered that when they were five, her hair had been dark brown, instead of the purple she had died it since they were ten. She had only passed away three weeks ago, but it felt like just yesterday, because he still felt overwhelmed with grief.

Dolly was also a great person to be around: she was smart, but not a genius, she was confident, but not stuck-up, she was funny, but not silly, she really cared about the important things in life. He knew everything about her-except for the secret she had been forced to keep-from her favorite music down to the new painting she had just started.

As the years went by, they had stayed together, until the thoughts of being a couple went by. Jessie had suggested it, and they had never thought about it, even when they kissed in first grade, because of a dare. They never became official boyfriend/girlfriend, but they let their relationship grow as far as they could allow it.

Life with her had been fun: in the summer, they spent a lot of time at the community pool, swimming or drinking Cokes from the snack shack. In the winter, they went sledding down McGregor's Hill, using only a trash can lid, until they landed in a shivering, slushy heap at the bottom. They had practically done everything together: he had been holding her hand when she got her cast put on her broken arm. She had attended his grandfather's funeral, going so far as to wear black and stayed with him that entire night.

Through all of this, Woody had never known that she had been abused, she had hid it all too well. He was snapped back into reality as Jessie's voice slowly faded with the first chorus, going to the second verse, still going on strong, despite the fresh tears rolling down her cheeks.

_Somebody cries in the middle of the night_

_The neighbors hear, but they turn out the lights_

The more he thought about it, the more he could see that he missed, tiny details, hidden clues leading to the secret. Dolly had once come to school with a black eye, which she tried to hide with sunglasses. When he asked about it, she told him she had walked into her art's easel that morning in the dark. Such a well-thought out and believable lie it was, but now, he knew that it was no accident.

Who on Earth would hurt her? Woody knew that her parents had divorced before she could talk, but didn't know that it meant her father abused her for that reason. She lived with him, and never spoke a word about him, let his name pass her lips, like he was some kind of curse.

He only noticed that she didn't ever invite him over, and tried to avoid the subject as often as possible. She often came over to his house, sometimes for homework or studying sessions, sometimes for dinner, sometimes to sleep over. His parents adored her, and Dolly had adored them right back, which resulted in often visits.

The worst part was that she was gone, there was nothing he could do about it. Her funeral had been the worst day of his life, it beat every other bad thing, it felt like they were celebrating some twisted holiday.

Each image of her funeral was stilled etched in his mind, as he climbed out of the car. While his parents wore black, Woody had continued wearing his plaid shirt, keeping one hand pressed over the golden star pin. It had been a present from her, on his eleventh birthday, and he hadn't taken the pin off since. His mother had quietly asked him about his shirt, which he answered stiffly: "Dolly hated black."

The funeral itself was terrible, while he tried to comfort Jessie, Crystal, and Trixie the best he could, despite the pain that was wracking his own heart. There was a body-viewing, but he couldn't bare to see Dolly laid dead in a box, so he stayed in his chair. Jessie had assured him that it was just like she was sleeping, only with a paler face, yet he still refused.

There were so many prayers and so many apologies and so many words of comfort and sympathetic cards and notes, but they were all so meaningless. No one could truly understand how lost he felt, how struck by the death of someone like Dolly. She was the kind of person who was always there, who you thought was immortal.

_But her dreams_

_Give her wings_

_And she flies to a place, where she's loved_

_Concrete angel_

The music climbed momentarily, then went smooth, as Jessie closed her eyes, her voice soft. She sang about the grave, something that Woody had also forgotten about, until now, of course. Through the funeral, through the false apologies, through the pain, her grave had been the most heart-wrenching, tear-jerking thing of all.

It was part of the funeral service to visit it, as two men carried her coffin outside, where it was beginning to drizzle. They lowered her into a large hole, which was then covered, as the gravestone came into the view, a message carved on.

_Here lies Dolly Anderson_

_A good friend and loved one_

_1993-2010_

Atop the message, a stone angel had been placed, a figure that didn't resemble Dolly, but somehow reflected her. An angel, with large wings, had her hands outstretched, palms facing upwards. Whoever had carved it had managed to give her eyes a tear-filled look, her hair falling in her face, as if she were begging for forgiveness.

Woody had barely been able to throw the rose onto her grave, he found himself hardly keeping himself in one piece, emotions threatening to be unleashed. The stone angel was permanently burned in his vision, how it seemed to look straight at him. Dolly's soul was now part of it, even if her body wasn't, she was still there.

After almost three whole days of being numb, he had broken down on the ride home, letting himself cry silently in the backseat, thinking about someone that he could never see again. It had been so many years of being together, simply walking to his fence, or picking up his cell phone, and her being there. Now she was just…

_Concrete angel…_

Gone.

Woody finally opened his eyes, as the song faded away, his fingers frozen on the guitar strings. There was an almost stunned silence from the audience, staring dumbfounded at the two, before getting to their feet, their cheers rising to the rafters. There wasn't a dry eye in the house, as Jessie curtsied and he quickly bowed before sitting back down.

He tried to make believe that Dolly was sitting in the audience with them, cheering louder then anyone else, a sparkle in her onyx eyes. Then she would be backstage with them, laughing, brushing Jessie's hair and treating them to milkshakes at the local Ice Cream Dream.

That wasn't going to happen, but when the applause finally died down, he reached back down in his bag, fishing around for the photo he carried around with him. Woody pulled it out, holding his breath at the captured moment of them at fourteen years old.

They were at the plaza, sitting by the fountain, which provided a beautiful backdrop, the light catching the water to cast a rainbow. Her hair was pulled out of its twin ponytails, the purple locks blowing around freely by the wind. Their hands were on top of each others, their expressions in mid-laughter, eyes closed. They were so happy and young, having no idea what their lives would progress into.

He took a deep breath before slipping the photo in his pocket, as Crystal, Trixie, and Slink came backstage, congratulating the two on their performance. Jessie thanked them, hugging the girls, before he finally stood up, answering their compliments.

There was so much he wished he could solve: he wished he could bring Dolly back, or at least save her by the horrible tragedy. Child abuse happened every day, in fact, after he researched it, another case was reported every ten seconds in the US. Innocent children, some only newborns, were suffering physically, emotionally, sexually, and neglecting abuse.

Something so terrible he couldn't ignore, but allowed himself to revisit her grave, willing himself to look into the angel's eyes without breaking down again. He also found a way for him to end the suffering for millions of other children, donating and making posters and adopting an abused child from another country.

No matter how long the days went, Woody could always visit Dolly, at her grave, or just through his thoughts. She would always and forever be his concrete angel.

**Well, there ya go. I don't know what to say about it, aside from the fact that I can't believe a child abuse case is reported every ten seconds. In fact, in the three minutes it took to read this, thirty cases of abuse were reported. Isn't that terrible? I hope this story conveyed this well enough, I'm not great at writing grief, especially about killing my favorite character. Ah, well, review, to show you care.**


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